


Lydia in the Middle

by littlefrog1025



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Jealous Derek, Jealous Stiles, Matchmaker Lydia, Multi, POV Lydia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlefrog1025/pseuds/littlefrog1025
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is sick of all the UST and lovelorn glances between her best friend and a certain wolf. Time she put a stop to it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lydia in the Middle

* * *

It’s been almost 7 years, and Lydia’s had enough. She’s had enough of the longing, forlorn stares, the playful eye rolling, secret snickering at inside jokes in hushed corners, the heated arguments that could set the whole block on fire, and the sarcastic banter that’s no longer disguised as flirting, but _is_ flirting. She’s had enough of the both of them. The angst, and the obliviousness, and insecurities are potent enough to choke an elephant. But so is the blistering hotness between them. It feels like rushing blood and heartbeats. It sounds like warrior drums. It makes everything thick, and heavy, peeling the paint off the walls with a summer heat that can’t be cured with shade.

She wants to end the madness. She can’t take it anymore. It’s all just so…ridiculous.

[Derek’s](http://i99.beon.ru/i1199.photobucket.com/albums/aa463/MistressElias/dererk_zps2b239271.gif) in his kitchen, pretending not to notice Kira’s petite, blonde friend smile and flaunt her bouncing breasts at [Stiles](https://31.media.tumblr.com/70d35b35f10b3efda4252821f11ee331/tumblr_inline_n25gtcDM9z1qfw2z4.gif) as he picks at the [crostini](https://beachpeach.wordpress.com/2011/04/24/crostini-wgoat-cheesetomato-basil-balsamic-glaze/), nodding along to her incessant chattering. [Lydia](http://38.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9qqh08Iiu1qzz0ybo1_500.gif) sees now why Kira thought Stiles and her friend “would make a cute couple.”

She touches Stiles’ arm, then whispers in his ear. He whispers back into her ear and she giggles.

Derek announces he’s getting more beer and slams out of the apartment.

Lydia catches the twinge of pain on Stiles’ face before Scott says something that turns his head and makes him laugh.

 _Yeah. This has got to end._ And she knows exactly how she wants to do it…

 »»»

Stiles is always the first to arrive, and the last to leave a party. It comes as no surprise this time, as he helps Derek clean up, dumping plates of half-eaten food into a garbage bag, and half-full wine glasses down the drain, occasionally sipping from a few of them.

Earlier, Lydia watched the perky blonde plead with Stiles to leave with her, batting her eyelashes and stroking his arm. She also watched Derek let two plates slip from his hands and break against the hard floor when she kissed his cheek, then placed her number in his hand after he had refused her invitation a fifth time.

Stiles is picking up used napkins and empty beer bottles when Lydia saunters out of the bathroom. She walks right over to Derek and perches herself atop the counter beside him as he continues washing dishes. “How do you feel about blind dates, Derek?”

She could almost feel Stiles stop breathing.

“Not a fan of being set up, Lydia. Sorry,” Derek replies.

“Oh, come on. It’s just one date. You don’t like her, you don’t have to see her again.”

Stiles is frozen with bated breath. Lydia catches his eyes and smiles wickedly at him. He scrambles to find something to pick up and clean.

“No, thank you. I appreciate it though.”

“You’re not even going to tell me why you’re saying ‘no’?”

“Set ups are always awkward and weird. I like to know a person first.”

“Could’ve sworn that’s what first dates are for. Right, Stiles?”

“Huh? What,” Stiles says, caught off-guard.

“First dates. You going to call Kira’s friend, Becca or something,” Lydia asks.

“Um. I don’t know. Maybe. She was nice.”

He's not. Lydia knows he's not. Stiles has grown into himself over the years and turned into quite an attractive guy, resulting in others finally taking notice as well. He's been asked out by sexy strangers a number of times in Lydia's presence. Gone on a few dates with some of them, too, but for the last few months he's decidedly stayed celibate; turning down anyone who asks, claiming to want "to focus solely on work for now."

But Lydia knows better. Derek stopped seeing that preschool teacher about 3 months ago and hasn't dated anyone since. Coincidentally, neither has Stiles.

“See? Stiles is taking a chance. He’s going out with someone he doesn’t know,” she says to Derek.

“I didn’t say that, Lydia. I said--”

“No, Lydia. I don’t like blind dates,” Derek says, removing his hands from the dirty dishwater and drying them with a dish towel. “It's late. You two should go home.”

“I… I thought you were going to show me that movie you were talking about,” Stiles says, disappointment in his voice.

“What movie,” Lydia asks, cutting Derek off before he can respond to Stiles.

“ _Casablanca_ ,” Stiles answers.

 _A romantic movie, late at night, just the two of them?_  Lydia wanted to shake her head at the combined ignorance of their own transparency. “You’ve never seen _Casablanca_ , Stiles? Really,” Lydia says with an eye roll.

“I tried to watch it with my dad, but fell asleep. We spent all day being chased by a goddamn troll. I couldn’t keep my eyes open after I took a shower.”

Lydia remembers that day. She also remembers the bitter fight afterward between Stiles and Derek. Stiles being stubborn, trying to help Malia, and nearly getting killed. Derek swooped in to rescue them both at the last second.

“Then we should hop to it. I’m too buzzed to drive home, that [punch](http://divascancook.com/strawberry-margarita-punch-recipe/) did me in. And you two were staying up anyway, so…”

Lydia leans forward into Derek, clasping her arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the counter. He holds her in a ‘bridal carry’. 

“God, you’re strong,” she says.

He blushes.

“You should do that more often. It’s nice.” She runs her perfectly, manicured finger down his lips.

Lydia sees the split second he forgets himself, and parts his lips to taste her finger, before he remembers himself and puts her to her feet.

She winks at him. 

Her heels clack against the floor as she makes her way to the couch.

Stiles dumps a few plates into the sink with a clatter, glaring at Derek, before walking toward the couch.

»»»

Stiles managed to convince Derek a few years back that he needed more than just a beat up couch and thrift store coffee table in his place. Derek bought a TV and DVD player, two Goodwill armchairs, and a carpet he found near a dumpster that Stiles insisted her have professionally cleaned. Twice.

Lydia sits close to Derek on the couch, while Stiles avoids looking at them, as he seethes in the adjacent armchair close to Derek. His head rest on his fist as he stares at the screen, but Lydia knows he isn’t really watching the film, but rather angrily wondering why he suddenly feels like the third wheel on a date.

Lydia leans in close to Derek, bumping her knee against his, whispering in his ear about the movie, touching his thigh when she does, and flicking her hair from her bared neck.

Derek stiffens when he glances at Stiles and catches the scowl on his face.

Lydia smirks to herself, then slides further down the couch.

Derek relaxes at the distance she puts between them. However, Lydia removes her heels and brings her bare feet up to rest in Derek’s lap.

“I’m going to go,” Stiles announces abruptly, breaking from his seat.

Derek jumps up, too. “The movie’s not over.”

“I wasn’t really into it.”

“Well, do you need a ride home? You can leave the jeep here and come get it in a morning.”

Lydia pauses the movie and stands, too.

“No, thanks. _I’m_ not drunk,” Stiles balks, as he stares daggers at Lydia. “Besides, I feel like I’m interrupting—”

Lydia can taste the bittersweetness of [blackberry wine](http://www.finewinehouse.com/roscato-rosso-dolce-nv.html?vfsku=dess313&vfsku=dess313&gpla=pla&gclid=CjwKEAiA7f-yBRDAgdv4jZ-78TwSJAA_WdMa6-7BeqorAIBs4C_WWn4IIwogxIarC7gJBNAflVi0cxoCQFbw_wcB) on his lips. They’re surprisingly soft, and full. Her fingers scratch in the hair at the nape of his neck as he gives a little, the tip of his tongue languidly touching her lips.

She pulls back, admiring the stunned look on his face.

She reaches behind herself and takes Derek’s hand, pulling him closer to her body. She tilts her head back, looking at him, and the confusion on his face. She abandons his hand to run fingers through sable-colored hair, pushing his head downward to meet her lips in a chaste kiss. Her other hand grabs at Stiles, yanking him closer by his T-shirt.

Derek at her back. Stiles in front.

Derek’s hands are on her waist. Hers on Stiles’ shoulders. “If you don’t want to, say so,” she tells Stiles.

She’s asking as a courtesy. She knows damn well he wants to. And not for her.

He shoots Derek a quick glance, then nods slowly.

“Good. Now, kiss Derek.”

Panic seeps onto Stiles’ face. Lydia feels Derek’s hands tighten on her waist, and his breath hitch against her neck.

“Kiss Derek,” she says again, sliding a bit to the left, allow Stiles better access to the wolf.

There’s crackling electricity blazing between the two men. They can’t take their eyes off each other, waiting for the other to make the first move…

Lydia rolls her eyes, about to throw in the towel on her plan, when they meet in the middle, lips touching, eyes closed, and mouths open.

Stiles moans, making Derek deepen the kiss. And it’s exactly what Lydia knew it’d be: hungry. She watches as they lick into each other’s mouths, and pull at one another greedily. She finally got them to the edge, and pushed them over the cliff…but it’s sharp. It feels sharp, and aching. Her hands are shaking and skin feels itchy, like she needs to crawl out of it. A gnawing pools inside her gut, causing a burning heat within her as she watches Derek’s wet tongue slide into Stiles’ mouth, his hand card through chestnut-colored hair, claws inching out of blunt fingernails…

She pushes between them, unsure of why, or what she’s doing exactly… Her hands find the hem of Derek’s shirt and touch hard muscle under smooth, tan skin. She breathes against his pulsing neck--

A clawed hand, snatches her wrist, and pulls her toward the bed. Stiles’ wrist is in the other hand, being pulled, too.

The back of their legs bump against the edge of the bed.

Piercing fingernails slash at her dress, tearing it off her body.

“It has a zipper you know.”

Derek smirks as he watches her step out of her once stunning dress, as it pools around her ankles, leaving her in nothing but her [matching bra and panties](http://www.adoreme.com/ruthie.html?utm_source=google_shopping&gclid=CjwKEAiAxNilBRD88r2azcqB2zsSJABy2B96JU44JKt_DDjSDQDL2qC9XTHEk1c0AzMiHSUbBVy3MhoC1E3w_wcB#rtg-pop-up).

“Take them off.”

Lydia removes her bra, and slides her panties down her hips. Her smooth, porcelain skin blushes pink at his slight smile of approval.

“On the bed.”

Lydia doesn’t obey. She pushes and pulls, trying to exhaust her “opponent” with her insolence, testing them, seeing how fast they’ll wither before she decides she’s done and bored. But apple red eyes and sharp incisors bark at her, and she sits on the bed. She scoots back to the center of the king-size mattress.

Derek’s attention draws to Stiles.

Stiles grabs the hem of his shirt to remove it, but Derek stops him.

Lydia watches as Derek slowly takes off Stiles’ clothes, piece by piece, worshiping every inch of him in soft kisses and light touches.

Stiles is still pale, and long limbs, but those limbs are more solid now, toned with appropriate muscle definition from years of running with wolves and chasing the supernatural unkind. In addition to nature just letting him fill out and become a man. Lydia appreciates. Derek _more_ than appreciates, she takes note of.

Derek nuzzles Stiles’ neck before putting a sweet, demure kiss on his lips.

He whispers to Stiles, and Stiles sits on the bed, scooting back beside Lydia.

Derek toes off his shoes, then pulls his socks off. He lifts his shift over his head next, and Lydia turns to catch the heat rise in Stiles and turn him a brilliant shade of rose.

They’ve seen Derek shirtless numerous times, and it never gets old.

“Hey,” Lydia says softly.

Stiles’ attention diverts from Derek to her.

She leans in. He moves closer to meet her lips—

“No,” Derek growls. “No kissing.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow at the werewolf. “I kissed Stiles earlier.”

“First, and last time.” Derek takes off his jeans, pulling them off his legs. He smiles hearing the small gasps that escapes Stiles. Had Lydia not been right beside him, she would have never heard the tiny intake of breath.

It would seem Derek doesn’t wear underwear, and the sight of such a discovery is spectacular. She can’t blame Stiles for losing his breath. Derek’s hung. _Nine, maybe ten inches_ , she assumes. Erect and uncut.

The idea of Derek not wearing underwear doesn’t surprise her. She imagines too many pieces of clothing feels like a trap to someone that shifts into an actual wolf on occasion.

"Stiles. Come here."

Stiles crawls toward Derek, and without a second thought, wraps his mouth around Derek’s cock.

Her eyes focus on him. He’s slow, tentative, at first. Not afraid, but appreciating. He’s taking his time, tasting every bit of Derek, and making a memory of the weight of him in his mouth.

Derek’s head tilts back, neck exposed, eyes closed, as claws gently run along Stiles’ scalp while Stiles takes him all the way to back of his throat.

Lydia is feeling itchy, anxious again. That wonderful ache is present in her belly once more… She crawls over, kneeling before Derek, who keeps a steady hand on Stiles’ head as he opens his eyes, looking at her.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Lips press hard against each other, abusive and bruising, with wet tongues massaging against each other in a hard battle of dominance.

Derek’s hand runs his free hand through her hair. He yanks, and tilts her head back, exposing her neck. Lydia moans as his lips hover over her pulse point.

He won’t kiss her there. He won’t kiss, lick, suck, or bite. The neck is important to wolves. It’s special, reserved as the part of the body for wolves to claim their mates.

His lips move past her collarbone, her chest. Hot, wet heat captures her breast. She can’t help the moan that escapes her lips as Derek’s mouth stays put, sucking and licking her nipple. He lets go of the grip on her fiery hair to squeeze her other mound, and pinch the pert nipple there.

Stiles keeps at it, sucking Derek off, harder and faster, taking his thick cock deeper into his mouth, gagging on it. The gurgled noise must be a kink for the werewolf, seeing as how he nearly sinks fangs into Lydia’s breast when Stiles chokes on him.

Derek tries to fist his cock so Stiles doesn’t have to take so much, but Stiles bats his hand away and keeps at it, drooling and moaning all over Derek’s hard on, making him moan and suck harder on Lydia’s breasts.

Lydia’s hands grips Derek’s hair as she closes her eyes and just…feels. She clears her mind, drawing it blank, making the sensation of pointed fangs and a long, lazy tongue the only things in existence.

She whimpers when Derek pinches her nipple hard, just the way she likes it, but suddenly feels lost when his mouth disappears from her body.

She opens her eyes, shocked and disappointed, ready to push his head back onto her breast, when she sees him pull Stiles off his cock.

“You’re going to make me come,” Derek says, breathless and wrecked.

Stiles smiles. “Isn’t that the idea?”

Derek climbs on the bed; all three of them on their knees. He nuzzles Stiles’ neck again, then licks from his collarbone to under his chin, leaving light kisses in a trail from there, back down to his chest.

 _Necks. Strictly a mates thing,_ she confirms _._

He licks back up Stiles’ neck, reaching his ear and whispers something while looking sinisterly at Lydia with blood red eyes.

Stiles nods and backs away from Derek. “Put your back against my chest,” he tells Lydia.

She does. His erection propped between her cheeks.

She has no idea when she lost control of this whole thing, but it’s soothing that ache inside her, and making her skin prickle with excitement. That’s all that matters at the moment.

Stiles licks his fingers then brings them between her thighs, at the smooth, bald triangle there, rubbing against her clit, in leisurely circles.

Her head falls back on his shoulder. Nails digging into his thighs as he thrust against her with every rotation of his hand. His other hand fondling her breasts.

Stiles suddenly jerks and moans in her ear. Derek. Fingering him, while Stiles fingers her.

The three of them so close and touching one another makes Lydia keen. She pulls Stiles fingers from her, brings them to her mouth to suck, then pushes them inside her wet cunt. Stiles’ long fingers are nothing short of a benefit, reaching deep within her.

Derek’s tearing Stiles apart. She can hear it in the whimpers Stiles echoes in her ear, making her wetter. The harder Derek goes on Stiles, the harder his reaction is on her.

She needs him to keep it up. Both of them.

“Derek. Use three fingers on Stiles.”

She knows when he does, by Stiles’ loud moan at the back of her neck and the brutal dip of his fingers further into her.

“Faster,” she whispers to him.

Stiles moves his fingers faster like she says.

“One more. Harder.”

He slips another finger in her, moving all three digits faster, squeezing her flushed breasts harder, and needier.

Lydia moans, falling to her hands and knees. Stiles coming with her; Derek’s assault on him just as intense as he is on her.

Lydia feels it, tingling her toes and creeping up her body, feeling like a thousand tiny, feather touches that make her skin pebble. It reaches her fingertips and she grips the bed sheets for purchase as a loud cry bellows from her mouth, soaking Stiles’ fingers.

“Derek! Fuck! I’m going to—”

A wet, hot balm coats the small of Lydia’s back as Stiles moans in her hair.

Lydia and Stiles collapse side-by-side, panting.

“Good job, Stilinski,” she manages between deep breaths.

He smiles proudly.

She wants to kiss him, deep and hard, but there’s a possessive werewolf in the room that she’s surprised let her get this far.

She takes note of Derek reaching into his nightstand and grabbing a bottle of lube.

_Werewolf stamina. Thank God._

Stiles disappears from her side, surging up to kiss Derek wildly.

Derek puts a generous amount in Stiles’ palm and a few drops on his fingers.

Lydia watches them kiss impatiently as Derek slicks Stiles’ stretched hole and Stiles works lube onto Derek’s cock. They’re beautiful. Sweat soaked and kissing passionately with moonlight bouncing off their glistening skin. For a moment she feels intrusive, like she doesn’t belong and should leave, letting the pair indulge in their private love making with peace...

Then Derek whispers in Stiles’ ear again with that same mischievous grin with Alpha eyes boring into her.

Stiles turns to Lydia. He hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her forward with more force than Lydia expected, making her giggle. He settles between her legs. His hot breath wafting over her. His eyes meet hers in a playful grin as his wet tongue gives her one long lick from her hole to her clit.

Lydia shivers.

He does it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

His tongue lazily swirls around her clit. Lydia squirms.

He flicks the tip of his tongue repeatedly over the sensitive nub quickly, and Lydia turns into nothing but shivers and whines.

Stiles closes his mouth over it, sucking and moaning as he does, creating a vibration on her skin that sends electric current up her spine.

Stiles replaces his tongue with his finger when Derek pushes the head of his dick into Stiles.

Lydia grabs his head and pushes it back down on her clit.

Stiles sucks harder on her the deeper Derek slides inside him.

Stiles freezes when Derek finally bottoms-out, but Lydia can still feel the tip of the wet muscle in his mouth pressed against her peak.

Derek thrusts into Stiles, and his moan pulsates on her pussy, making her wiggle.

He does it again. Harder.

Stiles hooks his arms around Lydia’s legs with a hard grasp, and opens his mouth to lick her intently.

Derek pushes into Stiles again. Twice. Hard and fast. Stiles keeps up his oral ministrations on her.

Lydia catches sight of Derek. He's in beta form: face change, red, eyes, fangs, and claws. He looks determined, but blessed-out as well. He loves being inside Stiles. Has probably thought about this moment for years.

“Fuck him,” she tells the wolf.

The last thing Derek needs is permission, but he has it. From both of them. He slams into Stiles viciously, holding his waist as firmly as he can without piercing Stiles' skin with his claws.

Derek keeps at it; finding a rapacious rhythm that makes Stiles moan and whine on Lydia’s cunt, wetting it more and more with his tongue and diluted mouth.

All three of them are a chorus of moans, groans, whines, whimpers, and swears. None more so than Derek. Though Derek’s whines and whimpers are more growls than anything. Lydia would have been surprised by him being so vocal if it weren’t for her own pleasure taking hold of her complete attention.

Stiles circles her opening with the tip of his index finger, while licking her hood with an even, lavish pace.

Her hands grip the bed sheets, head tilts back, body bows off the mattress, as shocks of lightening strike her and she comes with a force so intense she kicks Derek in his side screaming into the dark.

Derek yanks Stiles from her, leaving her cold and exposed.

He changes their position, putting Stiles on his back, fucking into him with the same ravenous pace he had before.

The angle must be better for Stiles because his moans turn to begging sounds of pleasure, growing louder and longer.

Lydia crawls over to them and wraps a hand around Stiles’ cock, letting him fuck into her fist as Derek repeatedly hits his prostate.

Lydia tightens her grip on Stiles and kisses Derek. His pointed teeth nip at her bottom lip.

“You two are so fucking beautiful,” Stiles squeaks out.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Derek says, raw and hoarse around his canines. He grabs the back of Lydia’s head and pushes it to Stiles’ cock. Her mouth replaces her hand, and Stiles moans loudly, the back of his head digging into the comforter on the bed.

Stiles is about 7 inches erect, and cut. He isn’t as thick as Derek, but he tastes sweet, not bitter, making her want to draw his orgasm out of him fervently, to taste just how sweet he actually is. She takes him all the way to the back of her throat.

“ _Ohshitohshitohshitohshit_ …” Stiles gasps.

“Come on, baby. Come. Come for me,” Derek says.

As if on command, Stiles’ body goes stiff as a long, loud moan with a ‘fuck’ on the end, erupts from him.

Lydia swallows cum filling her mouth and tasting like syrupy, red wine.

She pulls off of Stiles, wanting to see Derek come undone as he pulls out of Stiles and cum splashes on Stiles’ stomach and chest as he roars above him.

Lydia sits back and watches Derek smear his semen into Stiles’ skin. He licks some onto his tongue and rams it into Stiles’ mouth. Who accepts it willingly.

_Yup. Definitely mates._

Derek moves to the center of the bed and lies down on his side. He manhandles Stiles against his chest, and grabs Lydia, pushing her against his back.

She drapes an arm around him and finds Stiles’ fingers entwine with hers.

It only takes a second for her to close her eyes, and drift off…

 

* * *

Lydia comes out of the bathroom, her hair damp and twisted in a bun atop her head. The back of her dress is ripped open with claw marks.

Stiles and Derek are in bed, beneath the sheets, cooing over each other in hushed whispers and soft kisses.

“I see my work here is done,” she says slipping on her heels.

“What work,” Stiles asks.

“Ending your bullshit and getting you two together. Scott wanted to lock you two in a broom closet like a sitcom. I happen to think my plan was much better. And enjoyable.”

“As lovely as it was, I don’t think it will ever happen again,” Derek tells her.

“Don’t expect it to. Seeing as how you claimed and marked Stiles as yours in every way possible,” she says with a glint in her eyes.

She moves to Derek’s [wardrobe](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/19/01/05/190105feef1cd9fbd01d3afa7c33aeb8.jpg), grabs one of his many leather jackets, and slides it on to cover the open back of her dress. “You do, however, owe me another [Chanel dress](http://cdnb.lystit.com/photos/2013/11/23/vintage-chanel-pink-vneck-dress-product-1-15178311-963013513_large_flex.jpeg).”

“Are we not going to talk about Lydia instigating a threesome just so the two of us could have sex,” Stiles says.

“Not just to have sex. You two deserve each other. Need each other. It’s virtually disgusting. You’re worse than Scott and Kira,” she says. She grabs her purse and marches over toward them. “Do I have to explain to you what will happen if you ever hurt him,” she asks with a threatening glare at Derek.

“No. Never,” he says, kissing Stiles’ fingertips.

“Good. I’d hate to have to kill you. You’re too good a kisser.” She turns to Stiles, “I’m best man at the wedding. Break the news to Scott gently.”

She pecks both their cheeks and clacks her heels toward the door. “I’ll return the jacket when I get a new dress. Enjoy your day, boys,” she says, exiting the loft.

“How is she still single,” Derek asks.

“Could _you_ tame all that? Would you want to,” Stiles asks.

“Lydia Martin? Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my head for WEEKS!!!! I had to sit down and write it! It was clawing at my brain!!!


End file.
